I just don’t feel like an equal “Life’s not meant to be equal”, you say then what is it? I don’t feel above people either.. I don’t feel good in my skin either
“What’s in a name?”, you say I say it’s everything It puts me in a box without ever giving any opinions Gives me privilege and takes it away Burns down the bridge of equality that’s left to stay
What’s in the gender? Nowadays people mix and match Men wear makeup and women wear slacks Men wear their hair down and women move in a buzz Idk what the fuss is about?
“You think too much” you say “You’re young and fine and attractive” you say It’s not that deep that comedian is mad He’s just trying to pay his rent His jokes are just sad
But if things stirred the *** And brought About a feeling of resentment In caste and name and female and the lack of Privilege as they claim Know that money talks In all it’s fame
That you don’t need to earn respect you have it tailor made That you don’t need equality Money can tower the gap of wealth and fortune and fame
But I claim: Life’s not fair when you’re a female brown minority in a hateful society Where it’s all about the name Check your privilege, check your privilege as they suppose I don’t have any I begrudgingly oppose
He triggered me and reminded me of my position He meant no offence but I’m reminded of my face That has no place in this society Just a pretty girl Wow so light her skin So pretty her features Until they know my name.
tell me you love me through gritted teeth while your demons rattle in their cages fresh blood trails in the snow initiate more questions than answers
sometimes I think I have an epiphany it’s really the voices laughing at me sometimes they argue over a chorus of steel-and-bone sometimes they offer up death in the form of hope
or my severed head on a silver platter because taking the time to disguise a ****** is a display of ill privilege the wealthy need no cover-ups, no covert operations
and if you’re already well-sustained then where’s the personal risk if you drive to close to the border in your bulletproof vest and shout that everyone else should just calm down as bullets rain upon them and enter their chests?
who’s the true enemy of life – the hollow tin man, or the murderer made of flesh?